


Unlike Any Other

by ardentintoxication



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentintoxication/pseuds/ardentintoxication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"i've a girl back home who's unlike any other"</i>
</p><p>Who is this girl who likes Chi Fu? Who's his girl worth fighting for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlike Any Other

When Chi Fu announces to the household that he is leaving to serve the emperor, Chi Zhen cries.

She hides her face behind her fan, even as her tears leave smudgy black trails through the white rice powder on her cheeks. She mustn't lose face in front of the servants, she tells herself, and waits until they've returned to their duties before calmly walking to her bedroom.

He's in his office writing lists when she walks in. Her face paint is perfect again, though her eyes are a little red. She waits until he is done - partially because it is a woman's duty to do so, but also because she loves watching him work, each character done carefully and precisely, without a single smudge. He turns on his cushion and smiles at her, beckoning her towards him.

She joins him, padding softly with her tiny feet bound in cloth slippers, and sits beside him on another cushion.

“You’re really leaving?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. 

“Yes,” he says, and she trembles like a flower petal in the wind. “Don’t worry,” he says, cupping her chin in his hand, “I’ll be perfectly safe. I’m on the emperor’s council – I’m just there to report on some–” she kisses his jaw, and his voice cracks “–new recruits.”

“Hurry back,” she whispers, not a hair above propriety. “I’ll be waiting for you.” She touches his cheek. “You have ink on your face.”

“Do I?”

“Oh, yes,” she says, “Right there.” And she kisses the spot, which hasn’t any ink at all. “And also here.” She kisses his jaw. “And here.” She kisses his lips.

She helps him check for ink splots until dawn. He packs his bags as she sleeps, her hair in disarray on the pillow and her face unpainted and puffy with sleep, but she’s awake and perfect by the time he is ready to leave.

She will wait for him – it is a wife’s duty to do so. She does not let herself cry until he is a tiny speck on the horizon.


End file.
